


you were never on your own

by derheck



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, JUST FRIENDS BEING BUDS AND BUDS BEING FRIENDS, Trans Girl Pidge, happy birthday pidge, i wish he was my friend, lance is a great friend, this is strictly platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derheck/pseuds/derheck
Summary: Lance knew how to throw damn good parties.  And that’s what they all needed.  A damn good party.  And what better reason to throw a damn good party than to celebrate everyone’s favorite green paladin growing one year older?  Better yet- it wasn’t just going to be a party.  He was going all out.  He was going to throw Pidge a fucking space quinceañera.





	

It was hard keeping track of how long they’d been in space; after all, the only thing about time that truly mattered when it came to saving the universe is the fact that they had very little of it.  Lance tried his best to keep track of how long they’d been gone, but in the end all he had at best was a guess.  Each day longer he spent defending the universe, the bigger the hole in his heart grew.  He missed earth.  He missed his family.  

All of the paladins did, he knew, so it helped that he wasn’t the only one.  But it was still hard.  Hell, suddenly being thrown in the middle of a thousands of years old intergalactic war would be hard on anyone, never mind a group of teenagers riddled with anxiety and other sorts of emotional baggage.  They were all tired and homesick and just needed a vacation.   Lance would have loved to have a spa day (or week… or month) but he knew it was fairly unlikely that they would ever get a day off in the foreseeable future.  Not with the fate of the universe in their hands.  

But still, Lance knew he and the paladins needed something to lift their spirits.  He didn’t know what exactly, but he knew it was something.  

 

It wasn’t until they had followed a lead as to the whereabouts of Matt and the rebels, only to discover that it was a false lead, that he realized three things:

First, Pidge was very clearly missing her brother.  Understatement of the century. The heartbreak in her eyes was obvious when they landed on a planet that showed no signs of Matt.  Her quiet and angry sobs filled the paladins’ ears and broke their hearts.  She’d told Lance that Matt was her best friend.  He’d been the most supportive of her transition, had always been there to lend an ear, he had gotten her interested in the conspiracy theories and cryptids she absolutely loved.  Getting her hopes up about seeing her brother only to have them crushed time and time again was getting to be impossible to bear. 

Second, it was nearly Pidge’s fifteenth birthday.  She didn’t deserve to spend such a special day absolutely miserable, with a gaping family sized hole in her heart.  She deserved to be happy.  

Third, Lance knew how to throw damn good parties.  And that’s what they all needed.  A damn good party.  And what better reason to throw a damn good party than to celebrate everyone’s favorite green paladin growing one year older?  Better yet- it wasn’t just going to be a party.  He was going all out.  He was going to throw Pidge a fucking space quinceañera.  

 

Ideally, he would have loved to have pulled this all off himself.  That way, not only would Pidge be surprised, but so would the rest of the team.  But, given how pressed for time they were and the limited space resources he had, he had to ask everyone (except for Pidge) for help.  

He put Hunk in charge of the food, because honestly who else could be trust to whip up some sort of gourmet food that would make Gordon Ramsey weep with joy?  

(Hunk got to work quickly, muttering under his breath about fifty layer cakes and fondant lions.)

Coran was in charge of the music.  Lance didn’t know what sort of music he had stored away, but he trusted Coran.  Mostly.

(“Keith mentioned something about Cotton Eyed Joe being an earth classic, should I try to play something along those lines?”)

Keith was put to the task of distracting Pidge.  Whatever it took.  Namely heated debated about cryptids, like whether or not mothman was lactose intolerant or whether or what bigfoot’s favorite genre of music would be.  

(“Bigfoot would not like country music, Keith, he’s more into classical stuff, like NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys.”)

Shiro was in charge of decorations.  He had complained about how he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body (“You’ve seen my stick figures, Lance.  They… never connect.”), but Lance told him he just had to follow his directions, and he’d nail it (Lance also reassured him that he’d be present for most of the decorating and would be able to help.  He mostly needed Shiro to get the supplies ready).

Allura had what Lance considered one of the most important jobs.  Wardrobe.  After all, what sort of quinceañera would this be if it didn’t have a frilly-ass dress.  Or just a dress in this case; he knew that Pidge wasn’t the girliest of girls and that she had said time and time again that dresses were a helltrap, but she had also said that she struggled with not always feeling like a girl because the only clothes she had available to her made her look like a boy.  Lance was going to make sure she felt like a princess.

 

One of the many issues that occurs when planning a space quinceañera, Lance soon realized, is that there’s not many options for guests.  He and the other paladins listed off possible invitees, but there were definitely some disagreements.  Partially because of scheduling differences (when was a good time for a party when you’re all on the run from the Galra) and partially because a good bit of aliens they’d met had wanted to kill them.  

(“That Weblum was pretty cool, though.”

 “For the last time, Hunk; we can’t have space killer whales at a quinceañera, no matter how good they look in party hats.”

  “It was a worm, Lance.”

  “Whale, worm.  It’s all the same in space.”)

Despite the disagreements, however, they were able to pull together a nice little list of guests.  All of whom Lance sent very nice handmade invitations to. 

 

Before he knows it, the day of the party has arrived.  Hunk’s come up with a whole array of foods, arranged buffet style; Shiro and Lance decorated one of the ballrooms very modestly; Allura and Lance found and altered a cute, simple dress that Pidge would hopefully like; and Keith had kept Pidge distracted (with only a few bruises to show for it).  Part of Lance would have loved to do like in the movies, where the guest of honor gets lured to a dark room and everyone else jumps out yelling SURPRISE!, but given how jumpy and paranoid they all were, having a room full of people jump out at you in the dark couldn’t turn out well.

So Lance decided he’d tell her the truth.  

Sort of. 

He left the rest of the team to do the finishing touches to the space quinceañera and went to find Pidge.  She was outside, laying on the grass and watching the clouds go by.  

“Hey, Pidge,” he greeted quietly, laying down beside her.  

“Hey, Lance,” she answered back.

They’re both quiet for a few seconds.

“Happy birthday,” he tells her.

“Thanks,” she replied.  Softly.  Sadly.  This was her first birthday without any of her biological family present.  Lance’s heart clenched and he was suddenly extremely glad he’d decided to do this.

“Did the other paladins wish you a happy birthday?” 

“Yeah.  Also Hunk made me birthday pancakes this morning.  And Keith gave me some weird alien doodle.  I named him Nathaniel.” 

“I love Hunk’s birthday pancakes.  And I’ve never met Nathaniel but I’m sure I love him too.” Lance said, sitting up.  He reached inside his jacket and pulls out a wrapped gift.  “Here you go,” he told her, handing her the present as she sat up.

“Aw, Lance.  You shouldn’t have,” she said, as she eagerly tore into the present.  An small gasp.  “Lance, is this-”

“Yep.  I know you said you don’t really like them, but I figured you’d at least like the option to not wear one.”

Pidge holds up the light green sundress Lance had given her and looked at him, a mix of emotions in her face.  She didn’t say thank you, not out loud, but Lance knew she felt it.

“You might wanna put it on,” Lance told her, getting up.  “You don’t want to feel underdressed at your own party.”

“Party?!  What for me??”

“Yep,” he said, walking nonchalantly towards the castle. 

“Wait- Lance!  Wait for me!” she shouted behind him, throwing on her dress over her clothes before running to catch up with him.  Laughing, he ran ahead of her, leading the way to the ballroom.  

He stopped in front of the doors and waited for Pidge to catch up to him; he grinned at her and asked her softly, “Ready?” and was answered with an excited nod. 

Lance threw open the doors of the ballroom, to reveal the dimly lit room, decorated with streamers and balloons.  Quiet music was playing in the background and the guests were all gathered around the room.  

Lance cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself and to Pidge.  “Gentlemen, gentleladies, neither, both, and those in between; may I present to you, the guest of honor: Katherine Pidgeon Holt.”  As the guests applauded, Lance snapped his fingers and an Altean waltz began to play.  He held out his hand to Pidge and bowed.

“May I have this dance?”  He offered a foot for her to step on, knowing fully well that Pidge wouldn’t know the dance.

“You may,” Pidge replied, curtsying, and stepping onto his feet. 

Lance led them around in a clumsy waltz for a few seconds, before speaking. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I did this,” he said.  “It’s a space quinceañera and I’m your self appointed chambelan of honor-” he stopped talking when he realized Pidge was crying. 

“Hey, hey, hey it’s fine I don’t have to be your chambelan, we can get Keith or Shiro or Hunk or literally anyone else I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable I’ll call this entire thing off just say the word Pidge-”

“No,” Pidge said, with a small huff of laughter, wrapping her arms around him and wiping the tears off her face on his jacket.  “No, I’m happy.  And… this is something Matt would do.  You just.. You remind me of him a lot, Lance.   And right now, him and my parents don’t seem so far away,” she sniffed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, Pidge,” Lance said softly, hugging her back tightly.  “Happy birthday.”

A pause.  Lance pulled away from Pidge’s hug, a smirk on his face.  With his best Antonio Bandera’s impersonation, he asked: “But hey, isn’t we supposed to be having a fiesta?”

Pidge’s eyes lit up.  “UNO, DOS, CUATRO- HIT IT!”

**Author's Note:**

> did i cry while writing this fic hell yea i did  
> (i'm sorry y'all)
> 
> disclaimers; i am a cis female so if i have overstepped any boundaries pls let me know so i can fix things. also, i know lance is cuban and my only experience w quinerañeras has been mexican ones and like i'm p sure there's no big differences??? but like if there are pls correct me y'all. obviously, in would have liked to cover all the cute little traditions of a quinceañera but like time limits and ya girl is busy;;; but on that note; pidge's ultima muñeca is totally a blow up alien doll. mine was a panda pillow pet.
> 
> come cry w me @gaylienpaladin on tumblg


End file.
